Having had a year of career-type work under my belt, I decided in the early spring of 1985 to take a few days off and travel to New York. I was going to see my newly married friend, Ann-Face, who lived I believe in Westchester County with her husband, Phil, and I was going to see my old girlfriend, Tori, who lived in Astoria.

I wish I remember more details of the trip. I know that I spent two nights with Tori, after I had been at Ann and Phil’s. I met her at Grand Central Station, and we spent the evening in Chinatown. We had a great time, winding and laughing through the sidewalk markets on Mott Street. We spent the next day hanging out at the beach on Long Island Sound (it was cold and windy). We partied with her friends around Astoria the second night. After the bar, I had been given a place to crash on the sofa in the living room, and I remember that she came out in the darkness to tell me that she had something to show me in her bedroom. In her bedroom I remember she took off her top in the front of the mirror, and we just started making out. I remember her shushing me in bed so as not to wake up her roommates.

Although she had me heartbroken through most of 1978 and ’79, by 1985 I had grown up enough to see Tori as hopelessly hard to figure out and just a little put-on. She wrote me a few times later that year, and we kept in touch sporadically over the years, including exchanges over the dreaded Facebook, but I haven’t seen her since.